


Ask Me

by MarginalMadness



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, M/M, Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8496787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarginalMadness/pseuds/MarginalMadness
Summary: Sometimes life doesn't work out the way you want it to. Especially when you give someone else the power to break your heart.





	1. Ask Me

Standing in the bustling backstage corridors of the Grand Prix Final arena, Victor barely recognised the young, blond man standing in front of him. He stood taller, prouder, looking him squarely in the eye; he had grown, in more ways than one. The characteristic slouch and ever present sneer, which Victor had always known to mar his delicate features, was nowhere to be found.

Yuri, made the first move, thrusting out his hand and taking a step forward.

“Victor, congratulations! Katsuki’s performance out there was incredible, he’s come a long way.” The tug at the corner of the younger mans lips was small, but Victor could hear no trace of condescension in his tone, he honestly sounded impressed and Victor felt a small burst of pride in his chest for both his Yuuri’s performance, and his former proteges maturity. “You must be an amazing coach.”

“It is all down to him, I’ve never seen anybody train so hard, even I could hardly keep up with him.” Victor said with a wide smile and a tilt of his head, firmly grasping Yuri’s hand. “But what you did out there was outstanding. You really surprised me.” He said throwing the younger man a wink.

 

And he had. Victor had coached Yuuri, on every aspect of his performance, from the technical aspects of perfecting his jumps, to how to emote and how to hold back, tricks on how to hide his nerves, to only let the judges see what he wanted them to see. Victor, had set upon this quest to get to know the real Yuuri Katsuki, and after six months of rigorous training and living under the same roof, he knew every aspect of him, every inch. There were no secrets between them anymore, there was no use in even trying, they knew each other so well. He’d used the knowledge he gained, to mould Yuuri into a more confident skater, a more convincing performer. Yuuri, on the other hand, had somehow made him a better man. Taken his impulsive side and calmed him. No one talked to him the way Yuuri did, being an international-star from a teen, no one wanted to be the one to put him in his place (except Yakov), when he was being an asshole, but Yuuri was willing to. Yuuri said ‘No’. With anyone else he’d leave, find a way to do what he wanted anyway, but not with Yuuri, never with Yuuri.

In the end their partnership had paid off. Yuuri, had performed perfectly in the Grand Prix final, with a score to almost equal his own last year, a score that won him gold by a wide margin. He was proud, so, unbelievably proud, when Yuuri came off the ice he had pulled him into his arms, into a bone crushing hug. It didn’t matter to Victor where he placed anymore, although he was secretly confident he’d get the gold. After all his hard work and his performance out on the ice tonight, he was convinced Yuuri was the most beautiful performer he’d ever seen.

And then Yuri Plisetsky, made his senior debut. As the music started, soft and melodic, he moved across the rink with such ease and grace, the entire stadium went silent in awe. His steps were effortless, limbs flowing and arcing like gossamer silk, in the breeze. He was ethereal and perfect. A single, tiny wobble on the landing of a triple axle; practically indiscernible to the untrained eye, was the only mistake Victor, could see.

They had stood in the locker room watching Yuri, make the most incredible senior debut, since Victor himself. The reassuring hand that was resting on Yuuri’s shoulder slid down the shorter man’s arm, to intertwine with his fingers to give them a quick squeeze. The motion pulled Yuuri’s attention away from the TV and around to Victor, who put a hand on his cheek, his thumb gently caressing over his cheekbone. “You did amazing out there.” He reassured in thickly accented English, before switching to Japanese, in a phrase which came out practically fluently. “I’m proud of you.”

Yuuri had blushed and ducked his head, leaning slighting into Victor’s, hand. “I know.” He mumbled back, before switching to English. “Your Japanese accent is terrible by the way.” He said with a teasing smile, looking up at Victor, from under thick, black lashes. Victor gave him a wide, close-eyed smile and threw an arm around his neck pulling him in for a hug, smothering Yuuri, to his chest.

“Liar. I am Victor Nikiforov, I am good at everything!” He said, laughing loudly.

Yuuri untangled himself from Victor’s arms, laughing, as he tried to fix his hair, sitting himself at one of the wooden benches. “I have tasted your cooking; that is simply not true.” Victor leaned back against the lockers and crossed his arms, giving him a smile, Yuuri glanced from his eyes, down to his mouth, and back to his eyes, and his blush grew brighter as he turned back to the TV. Victor wondered if he could read the hidden meaning behind this particular smile, the smile only Yuuri, ever received. The unspoken truth neither of them dared voice, for it might irrevocably ruin everything.

_I’d give you everything, if you would only ask me._

 

“I want you to come back to Russia and design my programme for next season.” Yuri, asks quietly in Russian, stepping into Victor’s, personal space.

Victor starts, pulled from his memory of only an hour ago.“What?!” He frowns, answering in kind, taking a step back, his eyes hardening.

“What you did with Katsuki, it was, quite honestly, a miracle. His performances out there today- If you had told me when I first met that loser, he could skate like that, I would have laughed until I pissed myself.” Yuri, explains, moving back into Victors, space and lowering his voice still. Fire and rage spread through Victor’s, chest hearing the younger man talk about Yuuri, so degradingly. He openes his mouth to interject but, Yuri continues to speak. “But out there, he was beautiful. If you can take that…mess of a man, and turn him into that kind of a performer, what could you do with me?”

Victor closes his mouth and stares hard at Yuri. Is he crazy? Yakov would never go for it, for starters, and secondly, leave Japan? He always intended to go back to Saint Petersburg at some point he supposes, but leave Yuuri? No. He could never do that. Yuuri needs a coach. A coach who understands him, who brings out the best in him, and Victor, honestly believed he was the best man for that job. The only man, for that job. He will be by Yuuri’s side at Ice Castle Hasetsu, until the day Yuuri stopped skating. “I’m not trying to steal you from him, if that’s what you think.” Says Yuri, with an uncharacteristically nervous hand on his neck, looking around at the other skaters in the corridor. “But it’s no secret that he’s said, this may be his last year competing. You’re obviously an amazing coach, and if he’s not going to use your talents, I want to.” The teenager stands straighter now, squaring his shoulders. “Just think about it? Please?”

Victor, blinks at him owlishly. Yuri Plisetsky, asking for something, politely. Hell must be freezing over. His eyes close, and he takes a slow deep breath before opening them again. “Okay.” A knot in his chest tightens and he feels a little chill at the mere prospect. Leave Yuuri? Never. But he’d think about it.

Yuri, gives him grateful smile and a small nod and turns on his heel, weaving down the corridor between the other competitors, to find Yakov, and the rest of the Russian team. Victor, turns and heads in the opposite direction looking for where he’d last seen Yuuri, go.

 

Yuuri was in the in the arena, leaning against the rink, looking over the ice and the deserted stands. Now that the event was over and the last of the spectators had made their way out, the space had an oppressive, eerie feel to it.

“There you are.” Victor calls in greeting , keeping his voice subdued. “I’ve been looking for you.” He leans back against the rink, so close to Yuuri their arms touch.

“Just getting one last look at the place, before I leave.” Yuuri sighs, his head bowing. “I almost made it.”

Victor frowns, pursing his lips. “Yuuri,” he says, turning as he reaches over, slipping a hand under the shorter man’s chin and tilting it, making him to look at him. “You did make it. Silver is nothing to be upset about, you almost matched my score from last year, that’s an amazing improvement. Next year we’ll have a programme to beat Yuri’s. I’d say you’d have to work harder but I don’t think that’s poss-” Victor’s sentence is cut short by Yuuri pulling his head out of Victor’s hand and taking a step back.

“There won’t be a next year.”

“Don’t be like tha-” Victor starts, but Yuuri cuts him off again.

“I’ve said from the beginning of all this, this would probably be my last year competing. I’m coming to the end of my career, Yuri’s just starting his and like you said I can’t work harder. Ending it in second place after a glorious rise from the ashes of my previous failure sounds like a good ending to me.” He ends with a sigh, eyes narrowing at the ice.

“Like a phoenix.” Victor says with a wry smile. He pushes off from the rink and takes a step towards Yuuri. “If that is truly what you want I won’t force the matter, but it does mean we have some things to think about.” His future was suddenly uncertain, _their_ future uncertain. Victor doesn’t like that thought, and he doesn’t like the almost too-quick-to-catch way Yuuri’s eyes flit towards him before slipping to the floor when he said ‘ _We_ ’. “Yuri asked me to coach him, when we were done, so that’s something to consider.” Yuuri’s head slowly rises to look at him. “Obviously this would mean moving to Russia,” Yuuri’s jaw tightens. Victor can see the muscle working, a coolness settling over his eyes. “but I think we’d make a fairly decent-”

“You should go.”

There’s silence as Victor’s brain tries to process what just happened

You.

Not ‘ _we_ ’.

 _ **You**_.

 

Victor feels something inside him pull. Like it’s trying to tear him apart from the inside. “Yuuri,” he breathes, he feels winded, fighting against the growing chill in his chest that has nothing to do with the temperature.

“You should go.” Yuuri’s voice ring clearly, confidently, his head high, looking Victor right in the eye. A litany of curses in every language he knows runs through his head. Yuuri steps up to him, arms rigid at his sides. “I always knew I couldn’t keep you forever.” His shoulders slump just slightly then and a slight blush dusts his cheeks, “And to try would be selfish.” Victor watches as a sad smile pulls at the corner of his lips, his own heart pounding and his head screaming at him to act. He aches to dip his head forward and kiss that sorrow away. But Yuuri and he don’t have that sort of relationship. They danced around it, both of them at times pressed right up against that line, but they never crossed it. Victor didn’t want to push, he let Yuuri take the lead. He’s tested Yuuri’s boundaries but he never went past them, and he’s never gotten the sense from Yuuri that he was ready to risk everything, fear was holding him back, but Victor was a sure thing, he has to know that by now. “Your choreography is beautiful. Someone like Yuri could really make it shine.”

“We could be a team.” Victor’s voice is strained, like it’s being held back with all the things he wants to say. “Come with me? I’m sure you can only be a positive influence on Plisetsky.” He tries to go for a jovial, teasing tone, but judging by the look on Yuuri’s face he didn’t suceed. He reaches out and grabs one of Yuuri’s hands. “I travelled all the way to Japan to see you, Yuuri, you’re my muse now, I need you.” He wants to scream, grab the man standing in front of him and shake him until he realises how unfair this is, but he looks down at the firm, sure handed grip in his hands. There is no tremble there. At least not coming from Yuuri. Victor’s being torn apart inside, a cold in his chest spreading to his limbs, a hard knot forming in his throat, and Yuuri is standing there as calmly as if he’s a stranger and sending him away. How? How could this be happening?

“What would I do in Russia? I’m no skating legend, I peaked at second place, _once._ ” Yuuri lets go of his hand and slips his arms around his waist, burying his head in his chest. “I’d only hold you back.” Victor stands stock still, with only a minute shakes of his head. _No, this can’t happen. He can’t be saying goodbye, here, now._ “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Victor.” Yuuri moves to pull away and Victor realises this may be his last chance to hold him. He throws his arms around the shorter man’s shoulders and buries his face in Yuuri’s hair.

“Don’t do this Yuuri, don’t leave me, I need you.” He whispers desperately into Yuuri’s hair, trying to memorise the feel of him, his warmth, his smell, the sound of his voice, Yuuri stays silent and it causes Victor’s heart to aches so much he can’t breathe, only years of experience of performing with injuries helps him mask the pain he feels and keep his tears inside.

Victor finally lets go when he feels strong enough to look Yuuri in the eye and not crumble to pieces, stepping back only an arms length away but he feels like he might was well be in Russia already. “Was that some sort of Russian, goodbye?” Yuuri asks looking genuinely confused.

“What?”

Yuuri motions to his head with his hand, “You said something in Russian when you hugged me, I couldn’t understand it.”

“Oh.” Victor’s eyes go wide. He has a second chance, he can still- his heart lurches. Once. Twice. No…he doesn’t have the courage to repeat it. “Yes.” He says with a sad smile “I was saying what an honour it has been to coach you and saying a prayer for your future.”

Yuuri’s smile was so bright and genuine, he could have lit up the night sky. “The honour has been mine.” He bows to Victor, and it take all Victor has to not reach out and grab him. “You should probably go catch up to Yuri and tell him the good news, see if you can get on his flight to Saint Petersburg.” Victor feels his mask shift then, feels his face crumple. Yuuri doesn’t want to spend one more second with him than he has too. Victor has known pain, all athletes have, fractures, dislocations, torn ligaments; but nothing has ever hurt him as much as standing there watching Yuuri Katsuki be so blithely calm in the face of him breaking down. Maybe he’s fooled himself. Maybe he had fallen for the younger man, and was blinded by his feelings for him, seeing him reciprocate on some level was all just wishful thinking, or Yuuri assuming that Victor, was just a very tactile person. Maybe all Yuuri saw was a chance to have his idol, the “ _Great_ ” Victor Nikiforov, coach him.

His mask settles back into place, his head tells him this is obviously what has happened, his heart still weeps. He carefully leans into Yuuri’s space, placing a hand on his shoulder and another on his neck and give him a gentle, chaste, kiss on the cheek. “Dasvidaniya.” He whispers, the lump in his throat making his accent thick and almost unrecognisable, before turns and exits through the door he came through not ten minutes before.

 _This is wrong, this is all wrong_. His fists clench and unclench, nails biting into his palms. _We aren’t supposed to end up like this. We aren’t supposed to **end.** Period._ Every step away from Yuuri, feels like he’s physically tearing himself apart. The staging area corridor is quieter now. And while the tears aren’t falling, anyone who sees him can tell by the look on his face and brisk pace not to approach him. He stops by the locker room, staying only long enough to pick up his bag and check his passport. He needs to leave before he runs into Yuuri, before he throws himself down on his knees and embarrasses himself by begging him not to send him back to Russia, alone. He stops, toys with the idea of running back and doing it anyway before shaking his head and carrying on out of the building, before stopping at the sight in front of him at the entry doors.

“Victor!” Yuko yells brightly with a wave. “You must be so proud-” she stops when she sees his face, “Victor, what’s wrong? Where is Yuuri?”

He had forgotten that the Nishigori's and Minako had come to watch Yuuri skate in the final. He looks down at where Maccachin is sitting with them and feels a stab of guilt that he’d forgotten she was with them too.

He adjusts the strap on his shoulder and moves closer, crouching down to the triplets. “Be good, understand? Practice hard. I’ll be waiting for all three of you to show up in the junior division, so I can cheer you on.” He smiles weakly opening his arms for a hug.

“Are you going somewhere?” Axel asks as all three move in for a hug,

“What about Yuuri?” Loop pipes up.

“Aren’t you going to coach him anymore?” Lutz finishes.

He doesn’t answer, just hugs them tight before standing up. Minako’s looking right at him as he does. Right through him. She can read everything plainly on his face. A comforting hand stroks him arm.

“Take care of yourself, Victor.”

“What’s going on?” Takeshi asks, looking around. “Where is, Yuuri?” Yuko puts a hand on his chest and shakes her head before handing Victor, Maccachin’s lead.

Victor takes it and pulls her in for a hug, leaning down to her ear. “Promise me you’ll look after him. Anything happens, let me know. I won’t come back, I just-”

“I know. I will, I promise, I always have.” She replies, hugging him tightly.

He steps back. Smiles as brightly as he knew how and waves at them. “I guess this is goodbye. Come, Maccachin.” And with that he pushes his way out into the cold night air, where he can blame his watery eyes on the chill.

He’s pathetic. It isn’t like he’s never suffered heartbreak before.

 _It’s never felt like this_ , the traitorous voice in the back of his head whispers.

 

* * *

 

Yuri looks more surprised than happy to see him, maybe because he doesn’t look particularly happy to be there. The young man simply holds out his hand which Victor takes and shakes once. “We’ll do great things, Victor. Just wait and see.” He reassures with a nod; Victor can sense his pitying tone and lets go of the hand like it burned him.

“I couldn’t get a flight for a few hours, I’ll see you back in Saint Petersburg.”He says simply.

“Of course.” This understanding teen was not the Yuri, Victor knew. He misses the old, brash, aggressive brat, a little bit. This newfound compassion reminds him too much of his Yuu- …he gasps, as his stomach drops.

He doesn’t have a Yuuri anymore.

Fuck.

“I’ll catch my own cab. I have stuff I need to sort out.” His voice wavers and he nods to Maccachin. The younger Russian raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, acknowledging what he said with a nod, before turning around and catching up to Yakov, and getting into their arranged Transport.

 

* * *

 

The gate terminal lounge is busy, full of people flying back to Russia after the event. He squirrels his way into a far corner, and tries to look inconspicuous. He put on his plain, dark hoodie, and a cap to hide his signature hair, with sunglasses to hide his eyes. Wearing sunglasses inside might make him look like a ‘somebody’ but at least he doesn’t look like himself. He fidgets, flipping back and forth between all his social media accounts only to close them at the first mention of Yuuri. He hates waiting. He has too much time on his hands. Too much time to think, too much time to do something stupid.

 

He opens up his messages and goes to Yuuri’s with the intention of deleting them all, but he can’t. He scrolls up, re-reading old conversations, reminders, reprimands they have sent each other. His heart breaks with each recalled interaction, each it’s own piece of evidence proving how close and comfortable they were with each other.

“Fuck it.” He says quietly to himself, leaning forward pressing through the screens to call Yuuri.

It rings. It rings and it rings and it rings and it rings and he fears Yuuri will never pick up… but then he does. There is no greeting, no hello, no question to why he’s calling, just a slow, steady exhale of breath and then silence.

_Fuck it._

“Ask me.” It comes out as a growl. A command. A knot of fear and pain so tight in his throat, making it so hard to speak, he has to force the words out.

“Ask you what?” Yuuri asks politely, like he’s supposed to be asking about the weather.

“Ask me to stay.” And Victor has to bite his lip because he’s pretty sure that came out as a sob, and he doesn’t want to be recognised sobbing in the lounge of an airport; but while he’s trying to hold his emotions in check, there is nothing but stoic silence on the other end of the line.

“No.”

It comes out calmly, too calmly; but Yuuri isn’t calm, he never has been. His every emotion plays on his face and in his tone of voice. He’s never been able to hide it from Victor.

“You know how I feel about you-,” he starts.

“Don’t.” Yuuri replies, trying to cut him off.

“You have to know, how much I love you.”

The silence is deafening. Yuuri speaks not a word and Victor sits with his head bowed, eyes burning with tears he refuses to shed, and they stay like that until Victor’s boarding section is called. “I’m about to get on a plane back to Saint Petersburg. Ask me to stay and I’ll come back to the onsen.” There is still silence on the line, maybe they’ve been cut off but Victor can’t hang up. Can’t give up hope that Yuuri can hear him, that he can reach him, convince him somehow. “Ask. me.” He pleads. There is a sigh and he thanks all the angels in heaven that Yuuri is still on the line, prays that Yuuri is about to grant him a reprieve from this misery. He can come home, back to Yuuri, and in time this will all be a story of how Yuuri made the great Victor Nikiforov beg him to confess his love for him, and Yuuri will tease him about how he was so in love with him he was an emotional wreck.

“Have a safe flight, Victor.” And the line goes dead.

That’s it. It was over.

Victor lay everything out there, there was no misunderstanding where he stands, no risk here, no conflict of interest anymore. All hope he has been holding onto, the tightness that has been building in his chest, threatening to tear him apart snaps and like ripples in a pond, the ice cold, fear spread across his shoulders, down his arms, through the tips of his fingers and leaves him feeling numb, feeling nothing, like the last eighth months had never happened.

He stands up, taking his bag to the gate desk and hands the bland, Russian, woman behind it his boarding pass and passport. She looks at his details and does a double take, as he dipped his sunglasses and gives her a wink.

“Mr Nikiforov,” she whispers, looking around conspiratorially, trying not to alert the other passengers “It is good to see you finally going home.”

“Yes. It will be good to be home.” He says pushing his sunglasses back up and taking his boarding pass from her with his well practised ‘paparazzi smile’ letting it fall away as he makes his way down the jetway, giving one last thought to the onsen, and Yuuri. “It would be good, to go home.”


	2. Textual Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the text messages Victor read while in the airport

Yuuri!! Where is Maccachin?! She wasn’t here when I woke up and

she wasn’t in your room!

[7:17am]

I was up early so I took her for her walk.

Almost home now. I have coffee too!

[7:19am]

Awww, Yuuri!

[7:20am]

WAIT! YOU WENT IN MY ROOM?!

[7:21am]

You are too sweet to me <3

[7:21am]

You. Went.

In.

My.

Room?!

[7:22am]

 Hurry back so the coffee doesn’t get cold!

[7:23am]

That’s a nice picture of me on your desk btw!

[7:25am]

 -_-

[7:26am]

<3

[7:27am]

 

* * *

Be at the ice rink for 7am tomorrow, I thought of a new

component to add to your program

[10:11pm]

* * *

 <3

[9:13pm]

 Yuri?

[9:27pm]

 You haven’t talked to me all day. Are you still in a bad mood about

last night.

[9:42pm]

 </3

[10:11pm]

 I know, I’m not a very good coach when I’m hung over, I promise

I wont do it again just please don’t give me the silent treatment

[10:14pm]

It’s not about you being a bad coach, its about you being a bad skater

when you’re hung over

You could have really hurt yourself, today and you didn’t seem to care

and that annoyed me

[10:17pm]

You wouldn’t let me act that recklessly, and neither should you

[10:19pm]

Oh.

[10:25pm]

 If I promise never to do it again, will you forgive me?

[10:27pm]

Maybe

[10:27pm]

~ <3

[10:27pm]

 I want a heart, Yuuri.

[10:31pm]

<3<3<3

Happy?

[10:32pm]

yes!

Can I sleep with you now?

[10:33pm]

no.

[10:34pm]

 D:

[10:34pm]

* * *

goodnight, Victor.

[11:04pm]

gnite, sweet dreams x

[11:05pm]

* * *

You’re late…

[7:15am]

 you better be bringing me coffee.

[7:17am]

* * *

Your dick is in my bed

[5:56am]

…

[5:58am]

unfortunately not, no. It is, alas, here with me.

[5:59am]

DOG

DOG!

[5:59am]

Wishful thinking perhaps? ;)

[5:59am]

YOUR DOG IS IN MY BED!

No! >_< let me die

[6:00am]

ahahahahahaha!

[6:00am]

* * *

I’m running late

be 15 mins

[6:54am]

I see you typing and yes, I’ll bring your coffee -_-

[6:55am]

* * *

Your mother wants you to pick up some eggs on

your way home from your run.

[7:15pm]

ok

You want anything while I’m there?

[7:28pm]

Chocolates? Flowers?

SURPRISE ME!

[7:29pm]

*rolls eyes* yes, dear x

[7:29pm]

!!!

tease! You’ll break this old man’s heart </3

[7:31pm]

:p

[7:33pm]

[7:47pm]

!!!<3

[7:51pm]

<3

[7:51pm]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent an hour or so writing these to avoid writing the end of the fic, thought I'd include them. They might make you feel better, or worse.
> 
> #FutureFish


	3. Hate Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri knew that Victor would hate him one day, and if that day were to come, it was going to come he was going to meet it on his own terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally got around to writing Yuuri's POV, and decided to just add it as an extra chapter rather than it's own story. We're up too episode 10 so obviously this is now none canon compliant, but this chapter has a bit more detail in it. Yeah, Yuuri is a stubborn idiot. I know. 
> 
> This chapter is unbeta'd

* * *

Yuuri steps into the Arena. Now the people were gone and the lights were off, it somehow seems smaller, no more impressive that Ice Castle Hasetsu. His eyes travel over the ice, reliving his final performance as a competitive figure skater as an outside observer, imagining what it must have been like to stand here and watch himself skate, imagining what it must have been like for Victor to stand here and watch him skate.

He gasps as pain spikes through his chest, clutching the edge of the rink as he wavers forward, eyes closing tight against tears that he couldn’t allow to spill. _Victor_. What conflicting, bittersweet pain the man brings him. He takes a breath, and then another. Another, and another and another, until his head stops spinning and his heart stops hurting. He steels himself. Victor trained him for this, trained him to perform, to only let them see what you want them to see. To hide his nerves, project confidence, to fool the world even if he felt like he was shaking apart on the inside. He may have just taken silver at the Grand Prix final, but he was about embark on his most difficult performance yet.

“It’s the right thing to do.” He whispers to himself. “It’s the right thing to do. Itstherightthingtodoitstherightthingtodoitstherightthingtodo.” It becomes a mantra. His knuckles white as they clutch the side of the rink, until he’s not even speaking the words aloud anymore…maybe he’s still trying to convince himself?

Yuuri couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with Victor, but he could tell you exactly when he realised it. The National Championships when Victor berated him for being an ass to Minami, and Yuuri felt crushed at disappointing Victor. It became clear to him that nothing was more important to him that Victor being proud of him, not as a coach, but simply as a person. The smiles Victor gave him when he opened up to him on a personal level were much more precious to him, than the smiles and praise he got when he he landed a jump or got a piece of choreography right.

As for his discovering Victor’s feelings there was no big discovery. It was all very underwhelming which was funny considering how overwhelming it felt. He was practising his free skate when Victor called him over to the end of the rink.

“Take 10, grab a snack.” Victor smiled, handing him a bottle of water and his blade guards.

“In a bit, I wanna nail these jumps before I eat.” Yuuri takes a swig of the bottle, leaving it on the side and as he goes to push away a hand wraps around his wrist pulling him back, another pushing the sweat matted hair out of his eyes.

“Break first. You need to rest.” Victor said firmly. Yuuri rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement and Victor’s severe countenance melted into a pleased smile and warmth bloomed in Yuuri’s chest.

_He loves me so much. I’m so lucky._

The thought flitted across Yuuri’s mind unbidden, startling him. He slipped landing on his backside, looking up into the wide, panicked, cerulean blue eyes of the man he just realised was very much in love with him.

“Yuuri? What happened? Are you ok?” Victor panicked leaning over the barrier to help him up.

“Yeah, caught my heel, on my other skate. Maybe I do need a rest.” He took Victor’s hand not making eye contact, moving off the ice to sit at the bench.

“Do you hurt anywhere? Did you bang your head? Need anything?” Victor fussed over him, crouching in front of him.

“I’m fine…” Yuuri stared at him in a daze. _He loves me. Since when?_ He wracked his brain trying to figure out when Victor started acting different towards him, when Victor had started showing signs he liked him more than just a friend, had he ever? No. It had always just been there, the looks, the touches, the closeness, he never pushed but he was was letting Yuuri, know his intent. _Since always_. He thought with a sigh

“Yuuri…” Victor urged, pulling his focus back to him, placing a hand on his cheek, “are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

Yuuri put his hand over Victors, and huffed a little laugh as older man’s eyes widened in shock at the action. “I’m fine. Now, snacks?”

Victor’s smile widened until it took up most of a face, and a thumb traced Yuuri’s cheekbone, “I’ll go get you something.” He stood up, heading back to the locker room, throwing a wink at Yuuri, who was watching him leave.

As soon as he was through the door, Yuuri sagged against himself. He had a lot to think about. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have feelings for Victor, but he’d had feeling for Victor since he was twelve years old, so it was complicated, and now he was his coach, mixing business and pleasure didn’t usually end well, and if it ended badly it could ruin both of their careers. He had a lot to think about before he decided to pursue anything.

Yuuri looks out over the arena rink again, trying to remember all the reasons he and Victor have never became an official couple. All the reasons for why he is about to do what he is about to do. He hears the doors open behind him and his stomach drops, like he’s about to be sick, but he’s practised this performance almost as much as he’s practised his skating routines, so he puts on his mask and goes for gold.

“There you are.” Victor calls in a hushed tone, coming to lean beside him, back to the ice, so close they’re touching, and Yuuri can already feel his conviction wavering. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Just getting one last look at the place, before I leave.” Yuuri sighs, his gaze drops to the ice directly connected to the barrier, Victor not even visible in his peripheral vision. It’s how he needs it if he’s going to get through this. “I almost made it.”

“Yuuri,” Victor says, using the tone Yuuri has come to associate as ‘You’re an idiot, but I love you anyway’ and it makes him want to lean into his side but he doesn’t, but he doesn’t resist when Victor’s hand comes up under his chin and moves his head to look at him. “You did make it. Silver is nothing to be upset about, you almost matched my score from last year, that’s an amazing improvement. Next year we’ll have a programme to beat Yuri’s.”

Here we go, Yuuri thinks to himself.

“I’d say you’d have to work harder but I don’t think that’s poss-” Yuuri cut’s Victor’s sentence short by pulling his chin with more force than necessary- _make it a show_ , he reminds himself, _he has to believe you_ , -and takes a very deliberate step backwards.

“There won’t be a next year.”He says as coldly as he possibly can.

“Don’t be like tha-” Yuuri doesn’t let him finish, because if Victor starts talking, Yuuri’s resolve with crumble and Yuuri will hate himself.

“I’ve said from the beginning of all this, this would probably be my last year competing. I’m coming to the end of my career, Yuri’s just starting his and like you said I _can’t_ work harder. Ending it in second place after a glorious rise from the ashes of my previous failure sounds like a good ending to me.” He doesn’t look at Victor as he’s talking. He can’t, he doesn’t want to see what he’s doing to the other man, so he stares at the ice, like it’s to blame for all of his problems.

“Like a phoenix.” Victor starts moving towards him, and it takes everything in Yuuri not to reach out to him, to go to him. _Don’t compare me to a phoenix_ , he wants to scream, _There’s no coming back from what I’m about to do_. “If that is truly what you want I won’t force the matter, but it does mean we have some things to think about.” _We. Fuck_. Yuuri feels tears stinging at his eyes. And he catches Victor’s eye for the briefest of moments before staring at the floor in front of him. He can’t break down, not now, he can’t turn back. It’s for the best. For everyone. Fuck the rest of the world and what they think, he doesn’t care if they hate him, the only person in the entire world who matters to Yuuri is Victor, and he’s doing this for his own good. “…Obviously this would mean moving to Russia,” Yuuri’s only half been listening, but this is it, the moment when he breaks everything. He feels his jaw tighten like his body is trying to stop him from saying the words but he forces them out, making them sound casual.

_Perform._

_Make him believe._

_Only show him what you want him to see._

“You should go.”

There is silence and it feels wrong. Victor isn’t silent, he’s energy and life but right now he’s staring at him like he’s been turned to stone and when he finally does make a noise its to speak his name and it comes out almost as a whimper, pained and hurting so deeply that even if Yuuri were to take it back right now no amount of apologising could ever make up for it.

But he wont. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders and steadies his voice. “You should go.” His arms are so rigid at his side they’re starting to tremble, so he moved into Victor’s space. “I always knew I couldn’t keep you forever.” He sighs and his shoulders slump, keeping up the charade is taxing, and he feels tears beginning to burn at the back of his throat. “And to try would be selfish.” It’s bullshit, they both know it, Victor would crawl through fire if Yuuri asked him to. Asking him to stay would be easy and Victor would do it without a second though; which is why he wont. He tries to smile, he really does but he doesn’t think he’s all that successful by the look on Victor’s face. “Your choreography is beautiful. Someone like Yuri could really make it shine.”

These past nine months haven’t just been about turning Yuuri into a better skater, Victor has grown too, he went from being a genius, if self-centred brat, to a scorned “coach” who no-one took seriously, to a respected coach at the top of his field, and Yuuri couldn’t let him throw that all away for him. Yuuri could be happy teaching kids to skate at Ice Castle Hasetsu, but Victor wouldn’t be, he belongs on the world stage, even if it’s just his choreography, he’d get bored before long, no matter how much he loved Yuuri, and then he’d grow restless and resentful, and Yuuri would rather break both their hearts now and let him go free, to pursue his passion, than cage him and have him hate him in the end, and that was why Yuuri had never let him get too close. He’d came close to it sometimes, Victor would give him a look and he’d start to lean in, only to divert his head to lean on his shoulder or neck and Victor would hold him and they’d both wish for the other to just take that final step.

Watching him now, watching him fall apart in front of him and knowing it was his own doing destroys Yuuri, but he takes strength in knowing Victor will always follow his lead, because Victor loves him, and Victor never pushes.

“We could be a team.” Victor’s voice is strained, it hurts his ears and it hurts his heart, “Come with me? I’m sure you can only be a positive influence on Plisetsky.” Something pricks at the back of Yuuri’s mind, visions of he and Victor walking down wintry streets in Saint Petersburg, Victor excitedly showing him the sights, taking him to eat his favourite food, but he shuts it down before it can bloom into more than a vague fantasy, making his face carefully blank and fighting to keep it that way even as Victor desperately grabs hold of one of his hands, “I travelled all the way to Japan to see you, Yuuri, you’re my muse now, I need you.” He can feel the tremble, in his grip, and Victor looks down at their hands horrified.

_Don’t let them see your nerves. Confidence. Confidence. Confidence. Even if its fake._

“What would I do in Russia? I’m no skating legend, I peaked at second place, once.” Holding hands with Victor isn’t supposed to feel this wrong, its supposed to feel as natural as breathing but now it’s tainted. He pulls back his hand and wraps his arms around the taller man’s waist tucking his head under his chin. _I’ll make you hate me, if that will make this easier for you_. “I’d only hold you back.Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Victor.” Victor doesn’t move and he fears he may have broken him, as he tries to pull away arms suddenly tighten around him and Victor’s face is buried in his hair and Yuuri suddenly can’t breathe. _Is he going to fight me? Is he going to take the final step? I only have so much resolve_.

Yuuri picks up broken whispers in Russian, he doesn’t speak much, but what he can make out is, his name and ‘don’t’ and ‘leave’. Victor sounds desperate, like a dying man, clinging to him and Yuuri’s heart, incredibly, breaks even more. How could do this to Victor, of all people? Victor sighs and it sounds like a sob, but they both know he’s also too good at performing to let that happen. Maybe he’s doing the wrong thing, maybe Victor doesn’t know he was speaking Russian and was truly begging Yuuri to not do this.

Victor finally pulls back, his arms slipping from around Yuuri’s shoulders as he takes a large step backwards, the distance between them makes Yuuri, ache.

“Was that some sort of Russian, goodbye?” He asks confused. He knows it wasn’t but the confusion is real none the less, he wants to know what Victor said, wants to know what he’ll do if Yuuri gives him the option to stay rather than push him away.

“What?”

Yuuri motions to his head, grazing the dark strands of hair with his fingertips he can still feel the heat of Victor’s plea. “You said something in Russian when you hugged me, I couldn’t understand it.” _Say it, say it, say it_.

“Oh.” Blue eyes widen, he was right, he didn’t even realise he was speaking Russian. _Ask me again_! Yuuri’s heart soars, He made his choice. He practically begged him not to do this, obviously Yuuri was making a mistake and Victor agrees,. “Yes.” A small smile tugs at his lips, but his eyes are cold, and Yuuri swears his heart stops beating. “I was saying what an honour it has been to coach you and saying a prayer for your future.”

Yuuri smiles, and he smiles widely. So widely he crinkles his eyes so Victor can’t see the tears threatening to spill in the corners. He throws himself forward in a bow, just to he can stare at the floor for a second. “The honour has been mine.” He takes a deep breath, biting the inside of his lip and counts back from five, before slowly rising, mask fully back in place. “You should probably go catch up to Yuri and tell him the good news, see if you can get on his flight to Saint Petersburg.” Victor needs to leave, and he needs to leave now. Yuuri isn’t sure how long he can keep it together especially when Victor is looking at him like he’s the thing he loves most in the world has just betrayed him. _ItstherightthingtodoItstherightthingtodo_ \- He feels like he’s going to throw up. He knew this would be hard but his skin is starting to feel like it’s on fire it hurts so much.

He’s staring at Victor, trying to remain impassive and something passes over Victor’s face and he’s looking at him, so impersonally, he wants to weep, but a hand settles on his neck and Victor pulls him close kissing his cheek, and Yuuri noticed his lips are cold. They’re never cold. “Dasvidaniya.” He whispers and then he turns and he’s gone.

Yuuri starts counting. He makes it all the way to seventeen before he crumples to a heap against ice rink barrier. He stuffs his hand in his mouth to muffle the sobs, but the tears fall freely. He did it, he actually did it. He let Victor go. He let him go and it’s _killing him inside_. It’s all for the best he keeps reminding himself. Victor would be like a bird trapped in a cage if he stayed here with Yuuri, and Yuuri really had nothing to offer if he went with him. He’d be seen as nothing more as a distraction pathetically following him around trying to cling to his coat tails. He did the the right thing. Victor will see it in time. His chest ached as he took large lung fulls of icy air. _He’s gone, he left, he walked away_. He buries his hands in his hair, pulling tight until his fingers cramp.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but suddenly there are gentle fingers prying his hands out of his hair and his head shoots up.

“Victor?!” Large, red-rimmed, brown eyes stare hopefully up into the face of Yuko Nishigori before crumpling up again.

“Oh, Yuuri.” She sighs before wrapping her arms around him.

“It was the right thing to do, I know it was, it just…” Yuuri sobs into her shoulder

“Hurts?”

“I didn’t know how badly- I feel like I can’t breathe.” She kisses him on the forehead, smoothing out his hair.

“He’s gone, saw him talking with Yuri. Guess he’s on his way to Saint Petersburg. Lets get you cleaned up before we leave for the airport.”

“Yuko,” Yuuri starts and she pulled him to his feet, his entire body feeling wrung out and painful. “I’ll feel better eventually right?”

“Eventually.” She smiles sadly. “But you’ll always love him. There’s always gonna be that part of you, but it wont always hurt.” She puts an arm around his waist and leads him out the arena, he gives it one final look over his shoulder. A _part_ of him doesn’t love Victor, his _entire being_ does and right now he can’t imagine it ever not hurting.

* * *

Yuko sits next to him on the plane, it’s awkward at first, the seat that should be occupied by Victor isn’t and if Yuuri looks out the window too long and gets caught up in the view of the sky he’ll turn, only to have his heart break all over again, when it’s warm brown eyes that are watching him cautiously, not blue ones. The third time it happens he practically begs Yuko to keep talking, about _anything_ , and by the time they land at Charles de Gaulle he knows far too much about raising triplets.

They settle into the lounge for their airline, they have a flight in 5 hours, no need for a hotel. Yuko and Takeshi collapse onto sofa’s with sleepy triplets drapped across them and the domesticity of the scene makes Yuuri’s chest ache in an entirely new way, so he takes himself off to a quiet corner, watching the nightly bustle of an international airport through the window and repeatedly reminds himself that everything is for the best.

It’s a little after four in the morning when his phone rings. It’s Victor. He doesn’t even need to look, he knows it by the personal ringtone, the cheesy, J-pop song he took to singing in the shower, vulgar in the quiet of the lounge. He ignores it, it rings, and he ignores it, and it rings, and he _keeps ignoring_ it, and it _keeps ringing_. He finally fishes it out of his pocket, throat tightening at the sight of Victor’s contact picture. Victor had taken him out in Moscow for his birthday, Yuuri had tried to take a selfie of the two of them but Victor was looking at him, not the camera. Yuuri had waited his entire life for someone to look at him the way Victor was in that picture.

He answers, and everything he’s been desperate to take back for the past six hours dies on his tongue as he slowly sighs, and waits for Victor to speak first.

“Ask me.”

Victor’s voice is raw, guttural. Yuuri can hear the pain lodged in his throat and longs to reach out and sooth it but something stops him. He knows this is for the best, so does Victor really, after all he walked away once tonight already, this is just one of the stages of grief, so he has to be strong. He tilts his head back, tears slipping down the corner of his eyes but his voice is steady.

_Perform. Make him believe._

“Ask you what?” It’s so nonchalant it’s cruel, he knows that. Ask him to come home, ask his forgiveness, no, _beg_ his forgiveness. Ask him if he can have permission to kiss him; these are all questions Yuuri would prefer to ask, questions he already knows the answers to, but he doesn’t ask them.

“Ask me to stay.” Yuuri blinks up at the ceiling, tears flowing freer now, Victor sounds like he’s openly sobbing and Yuuri is about to join him any second. He takes a slow deep breath, and another, he counts to five before he regains his composure enough reply with a single word.

“No.”

“You know how I feel about you-,” Victor starts, but Yuuri can’t let him do down this road, nothing good with come of it, he tries to cut him off.

“Don’t.”

“You have to know, how much I love you.”

Yuuri mutes his phone, slipping from his chair onto floor, phone clattering to the ground beside him, hand slapped over his mouth to stifle the sound of the sobs. An attendant from the bar came over to check on him but Yuuri just waved him off with a shake of his head. This was a mistake. _Everything_ was a mistake. Maybe they could make it work. Victor in Hasetsu, or Yuuri in Saint Petersburg, maybe just being together would be enough. They’d be happy right? At least for a while.

 _For a while_ …and there is was.

They’d be happy for a while, but without skating to keep them together did their relationship have any longevity? Victor would get bored with him eventually, or get bored with his situation and fly half way around the world to train someone he saw the potential in and Yuuri wouldn’t see him for the best part of a year unless he packed up his life and went with him. Is that the kind of relationship Yuuri wanted? Part of him wanted to say for Victor he’d put up with anything, the practical side of him knew it couldn’t last long like that.

He dries his eyes and picks up his phone, only to see Victor is still on the line, he unmutes it and holds it up to his ear, Victor isn’t saying a word, there’s just slow, slightly uneven breathing. He stays like that, head resting on his knees, phone in his hand and he can’t bring himself to hang up. This may be the last contact he has with Victor and even if it’s just his breathing, he can close his eyes and pretend he’s right there next to him, like he’s supposed to be, if things were different; if they were different.

Victor finally speaks, and it startles him slightly, he must have been dozing off. “I’m about to get on a plane back to Saint Petersburg. Ask me to stay and I’ll come back to the onsen.” Yuuri blinks, everything suddenly clarifying. “Ask. me.” Victor pleads.

_Hate me._

Yuuri sighs. Straightening his shoulders staring straight ahead, and in the flattest, must unaffected tone he can muster he mutters, “Have a safe flight, Victor.” and hangs up. Leaving Victor may be the hardest thing he’s ever done, definitely the most callous, but if Victor is going to hate him, he’s going to hate him on his own terms, not because he got bored.

He glances out the window, and snow is starting to fall in earnest now and a wave of cold sweeps through him. Yuuri’s never minded being cold, always experienced a weird comfort from the chill, but this feeling was different, it settles in his bones with an biting ache, across his shoulders like a protective shroud.

Victor should hate him, he could live with that, and if he hates himself more, well, that was a price he was willing to pay.

**Author's Note:**

> So...hey...You got to the end, thanks for hanging in with me there! I got about half way through episode 4 and realised this show was going to break my heart. It was just going to chew me up and spit me out, so I decided to do it to myself first, and I had a terrible time writing it. I cried a lot, like, a. lot. But I hope you liked it! And there will be one up from Yuuri's POV at some point hopefully!
> 
> Beta'd by the fantastic [commander_cullywully](http://archiveofourown.org/users/commander_cullywully/pseuds/commander_cullywully)


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